The Same Old Fire
by SoraOfSkye
Summary: Dwalin saw the King Under the Mountain lingering on the ramparts of Erebor on the eve of War. The man he once had sworn his loyalties to was nothing but a shadow. He had to do something to make Thorin see reason, even if it meant stepping over the boundaries of a vassal and his king.


"And what brings you out here on the lone ramparts on the eves of war, Uzbaduh?"

The king did not falter, but stood there, gazing at the moon as he heard the heavy footsteps of the captain of the guard echo closer towards him. At the corner of his eye, he could see the tall dwarf wearing a smug look on his face. It was a façade. He had known him long enough to know when he was concerned. His peridot eyes gleamed fervidly with it.

He did not answer, but he looked over his shoulder to offer a sad smile instead. He hung his head slightly lower than how he had been these past few days. The Raven Crown upon his head drooped down over his brow, obscuring the once-piercing, crystal clear blue eyes the king was known for. His shoulders were slightly hunched, for a crown was quite the heavy burden to bear. He had not taken it off once since it had been placed there.

The captain hesitantly approached a bit closer but then stopped within five feet away from his liege lord. The obsidian eyes of the Ravens kept him at bay. In fact, he found the sight of the crown repulsive as it sat there, corrupting his king's soul. The black rings beneath his eyes were now more present than ever. The one before him had ceased to be the once-righteous, compassionate leader he had sworn his undying loyalty to. He was the King Under the Mountain and no longer his dear friend.

"Tomorrow, we march. Is it not wise to get some rest?" he cleared his throat and bowed his head slightly.

This pretense was unbearable, but he had to keep it up so long as it pleased the king. The company had spent days doing whatever they could to make him less foul-tempered. The sickness was hitting him harder than the captain could ever imagine.

"I cannot. Sleep has escaped me yet again, Dwalin," the king finally spoke in a quiet, quivering voice.

It was far from the deep, commanding and most recently cold voice he was renowned for. There was also a hint of melancholy in it, though Dwalin did not know why this was. It might have been the stolen jewel he had lamented for ever since they entered the Mountain, or for the impending doom that awaited them. Whatever it was, he did not dare ask.

"Tell me. What would my father think of me? Would he be proud or ashamed?" The king sighed and continued to gaze at the moon as he placed his hands on the carved stone walls. To the other's surprise, he slowly lifted the crown off his head and looked at it, turning it around in his hands as the light glittered off the black birds. He ran his thumb over the gems, though there seemed to be no affection in the way he was touching it. His eyes flashed with hatred as he gripped it harder. This did not go unnoticed.

"Proud yet ashamed," Dwalin replied. "But I have no right to speak on his behalf." The king turned his gaze towards his friend's eyes. The blue diamonds now seemed to glisten, but not with greed, or hatred, but tears. The captain was taken aback by this change. A twinge of guilt pulled at his heart but he did not move. Whether the king took his words as an offense or not, Dwalin did not know, but he could tell it resonated deep within him. What had brought about such a change in the stone-cold King Under the Mountain?

"Gandalf was right. My pride will be my downfall and also that of my men as I send them to their deaths because of it," he nearly spat at the coronet as he spoke, tears rolling down his cheek. "My own nephews scorn the very blood coursing through their veins. In their eyes, I am no better than the dragon!" At that, he tossed it aside as it clanked against the tiled floor. He turned his back towards it as his grit his teeth and clenched his fists.

"Aye, that you are," without warning, Dwalin closed the distance between them and threw his fist at the king's face. The blow knocked him back slightly, but he did not look up. He continued to hang his head low. He knew he deserved it. Though, he was not ready to back down either, as he defiantly stood there, anticipating the hits to come. "Stubbornness! You forgot about your bloody stubbornness!"

Dwalin landed another blow onto the other's jaw. Blood trickled from the corner of his mouth, but it did not deter him from his resolve. Anger rose from deep within the captain as he saw the king stand there motionless. He clenched his fist and seized his collar, pulling him close enough so he could spit on him.

"Yes, it was you who brings about death to us all! All because you couldn't think of anyone or anything else other than yourself and that blasted rock!" He gritted his teeth and head butted him. No matter how thick his skull might have been, he was not impervious to pain. And yet the king did nothing. He did not fight back, or even attempt to break free. Tears mixed with blood as it dripped down his chin. He could not get himself to look at his friend in the eyes. Was he allowing himself to be punished in such a way for some sort of retribution? This just angered the captain even more as he flung him down to the ground.

"It's all your own bloody fault! And what are you doing about it?! Standing there and trying to get me to pity you?" he spat to the side as he scoffed at how pathetic the dwarf looked to him. "Stand up and grow a bloody pair! I'm not going to die for the likes of you, you bastard! Fili and Kili are not going to die for you! Not for you or for your damned jewel!" Dwalin picked up the crown and had half the mind to cast it over the edge, but he stopped to glare at the mess-of-a-king sprawled at his feet.

"Nor will I see you die because of this either! Get up, you selfish bastard!" He did not care what he was saying or to whom he was speaking to. If there had to be someone to get through to the stubborn dwarf, it was Dwalin. "Get up and stand on your own two feet! But when you stand, leave behind all your greed and pride! Leave it all for their sake! For your sake! And mine! But if you dare hold onto any of that nonsense, you might as well drop dead where you are because you will be no king or friend of mine! "

He stood there, towering above the other as he huffed and his chest heaved. All this rage had been bottled up within him ever since the king laid eyes on the vast wealth of Erebor. After years of keeping the sickness at bay, all was for naught once he stood amongst the riches. He waited to see what he would do next. Would he rise anew and take up the mantle of a true King Under the Mountain or would he stay down and submit to more torment? Dwalin still held onto the crown as he waited. He held his breath, anticipating what was to come.

Slowly, but steadily, the king began to rise. His mane of ebony hair curtained his face as he turned towards the captain. Fresh blood ran down his chin as he looked straight into the other's eyes. His eyes gleamed with a new ─ or rather─ the same old fire from long ago. It was the same one that smoldered on the battlefields of Azanulbizar; the flame of Oakenshield. He smirked and without warning, lunged himself at Dwalin. The two wrestled and exchanged blow after blow until they both fell back with exhaustion. They breathed heavily as they braced themselves on the ramparts, but never once did they fail to break eye-contact.

"Aye, that's the Thorin I know," Dwalin wiped the blood from his chin with his knuckles and smirked. Thorin returned one alike as he gasped for air. The tears were now gone and his eyes never seemed clearer. They shined with a brilliance that would dwarf the Arkenstone. The captain then tossed the Raven Crown towards his friend, and was glad to see that he caught it effortlessly. He stood up with his shoulders broad and placed the crown upon his head, though careful not to have it shadow his brow.

"I needed that," Thorin wiped the blood from his chin and smiled. "I know I can always count on you to set me straight, old friend. Thank you." He placed his right hand over his heart and bowed towards Dwalin.

"Always glad to be of service, Uzbaduh," the other smirked and dipped his head into a deeper bow. He then winked, "Best get you inside to nurse your wounds. We don't want you addled before the fight, now do we?" At this, Thorin chuckled and patted his friend on the shoulder with a smile. His ice blue eyes twinkled in the moonlight. Dwalin grinned and nodded towards the Mountain.

"Thank you, Dwalin," the king offered his hand and the captain grasped it firmly as he raised their fists upward. Thorin pulled him in as he embraced him. "May Mahal shield you with His hammer forever and always, old friend." They then supported each other as they limped back into the Lonely Mountain, prepared for the day to come.


End file.
